It’s heritage round! And to celebrate the rich and wonderful past and the mighty clashes and rivalries of rugby league, we played more rugby league. In different jerseys. Trust me, it’s more awesome than it sounds, okay?

The NRL club were criticised following Saturday’s clash with Manly at Toyota Stadium, with complaints fans had to wait for up to 40 minutes in the refreshments queue only to find there was nothing left to buy.

Well, I assume we’re talking about beer. Because I’ve met Australians before, and I am 99% sure no one would bother complaining about a few bottles of Coke Zero. Except maybe John Cartwright, and he openly admits he has a problem.

To quote international hot mess and general life-icon Amy Winehouse, WHAT KIND OF FUCKERY IS THIS? If people wanted to wait in long queues to receive nothing, they would go to that post office next to Technology Park, also known as ‘where efficiency goes to die’. Perhaps this is why it took Manly so long to lock that shit down.

On the other hand:

There was also a brawl between supporters towards the end of the game that led to a police officer injuring his ankle.

… and no one is surprised. Wouldn’t you riot if you were there at Shark Park? They closed down the Red Rooster there. I rest my case.

In other news, most footy analysts would say that the Dah-rius Boyd starred for the Dragons on Sunday, what with his great ball-running and bamboozling of defence and intercept tries and whatnot, but I think we all know the real winner here is one Hot Bitch Cooper.

Obviously the winner is also the mob of spectators who got to watch a team of men play in the rain in white shorts. But in terms of actual players, it’s Hot Bitch Cooper.

You see, Hot Bitch is like a vintage Dior fur. Mainly, because he stops the senseless slaughter of innocent minks.

But also, because he just gets better with the passing years. He’s a rampaging, try-scoring, defensively brilliant centre with the legs of some kind of super-hot ancient deity. The kind Greeks carved statues of. Also, the kind perves on the internet talk about even though it’s totally creepy. Cough. (In my defence – what else is the internet for?)

Jamal salutes the past by tying his pigtails with strands of Terry Lamb’s hair

This is as opposed to the Bulldogs, who got straight up carved up. That’s a technical term. You can decide for yourselves whether this was a last-ditch attempt to lure Wayne Bennett to Canterbury next year (the man wants a challenge, after all) or whether Andrew Ryan, Kris Keating and Jamal Idris all suffered sever head injuries at Belmore during the week impairing their spatial awareness and decision-making faculties. Flip a coin, if you like. Either way, Kris Keating will now spend the rest of his career being heckled about intercept tries. At least he’s got Brett Kimmorley around to coach him. Convenient.

Thanks to a severe lack of Foxtel I missed the Melbourne Storm game, but based on the feedback from Twitter, the most important point about the game was that Matt Duffie is adorable. No objections from us.

But we do want to give a special Errol prize (hint: the prize is inappropriate groping) to Adam Woolnough for growing the finest Heritage Beard this side of the Great Dividing Range.

Put that man on a fixed gear bike in a flannel shirt and he would be fighting off the ladies and causing hipster boners all the way across Surry Hills. Who doesn’t have a weakness for a bench player with a pioneer beard?

I also, by sheer coincidence, got forwarded an online petition this morning from one Mr. C. Cronk requesting signatures to support his bid to have CRONK in gold lettering across his back for all 26 rounds of the regular season. I totally signed it, because that would be fucking sweet.

And the Errol stamp of disapproval for the round goes to the Newcastle Knights for not using Heritage Round as a perfect excuse to bring back Henny Penny as jersey sponsors. That happy little Henny Penny logo is one of the defining memories of the Knights from our youth (along with Joey and the Chief) and we wants it back. Make it happen, Nathan Tinkler!

Some might call that a gratuitous video of men in speedos and Tina Turner … we call it ‘heritage’.

I won’t lie, there was a point – about 15 minutes into the second half of the grand final – where I cried. Not snotty Marley and Me-type crying. It was more a general Brett Morris-esque welling. I promised Kiki before the game that I wouldn’t weep, and I was determined to keep my promise. I’m nothing if not really petty and really stubborn.

I WASN’T CRYING! I JUST HAVE A WELLING PROBLEM!

By that point, all was lost and I knew it and it was heartbreaking. More than once I wished I was watching the game at home so at least I’d be able to listen to Rabs Warren commentate. His voice is just really comforting, and boy did I need comfort. Then Flossy Nightingale scored his second try and I got beer all done the back of my 2009 wooden-spoon jersey from over-excited Dragons fans and the sheer cold shock of being covered in mid-strength beer (they were fresh ones) snapped me back from the crying abyss.

So here’s how the game went down from our seats in the stratosphere.

The view from our seats: I should’ve known this was a bad omen.

SO MANY DRAGONS FANS. Those bitches was everywhere! And who was surprised? After last year, they had to Believe. Their team just had to transfer their skills into the finals series. On the other hand, as a Roosters fan, there’s a reason I didn’t have tickets: Because I’m not insane. I’m only that much of an optimist when I’m drunk or take a knock to the head.

I was expecting maybe … seventh or eighth for my boys. Knocked out first or second round of the finals at best. You know, something respectable, but not excessive. Something to inspire them to keep going for next year. Little did I know that Brian Smith – teeny tiny Smithy of the soothing voice and the dry, dry jokes – was a Rooster-whisperer and my team would start pulling Tigers-2005-style wins off as the season went on. It was like coming out of a hellish breakup (also knownas 2009) fat, acne-covered and depressed, and all of a sudden realising you’ve met the most perfect guy EVER. I was shocked and amazed and delighted.

Is it sad that I’m comparing my footy team to a boyfriend? Probably. But considering I spend Friday, Saturday, Sunday and Monday nights with football, it’s pretty accurate.

In the end, it turned out the 2010 Roosters/my new boyfriend weren’t going to have the whole fairytale package. They lost the grand final/he snores … but whatever. They made me happy, and I’m proud. And here’s why I think my babies couldn’t pull it off and Kiki’s dragons could.

GRAND FINALS NEED GRAND FINAL PERFORMANCES. I’m looking at you, Jason ‘Flossy’ Nightingale. The Dragons left-side is always their go-to attack side (shout out to Brett Morris for making the Kangaroos side again!) but with Gasnier back they started moving the ball to Flossy on the right wing, and the Roosters were too tired/demoralised to keep him out. Flossy you little gun! We always believed in you! It totally helped that he wore his lucky boots: those black ones that make it look like he’s a little kid who forgot his boots and had to play in school shoes. Maybe he could get sponsored by Clarks?

Truthfully, we thought he’d take the Churchill medal, but it turns out Joyce still really loves fullbacks (remember her lolz quotes about Billy Slater?), and I’m pretty sure Flossy doesn’t give a shit anyway cause he’s a grand final-winner.

Instead, we got to see Darius Boyd give one of the most unintentionally nerdy speeches ever when he accepted the Clive Churchill. It started with him standing around awkwardly and yelling ‘WOOO!’ and ended with him saying “now let’s go party!” like an American frat boy. Oh, Darius. It was an appropriate speech to hear when the Whitest Team in the NRL had just won a grand final.

Darius bringin cool back to the locker room whut whut

(For the record, not saying they’re white supremacists n stuff, just that they’re literally WHITE. B.Moz, Hornbag, Benny Creagh, you see where I’m going. There’s a lot of milk in the Dragons fridge and not much coffee).

WHAT’S THAT WAYNE BENNETT QUOTE ABOUT A CHAMPION TEAM NOT A TEAM OF CHAMPIONS? Cause yeah … that. I thought Floss was the best on the field and the most improved on the field but I wouldn’t fault any of the others, bar a few rain-related mistakes. Dean Young killed it. Jeremy Smith killed it, while looking like even more of a complete babe than usual.

Exhibit A. Dean Young congratulates Jeremy Smith on winning a non-tainted premiership and being a dirty spunk.

Weyman killed it, while he was on the field. Which reminds me, I refuse to believe Daniel Conn came in with a swinging arm until I see it. I also plan to never watch the replay, so Daniel Conn is innocent. The end. QED.

And lastly, TWO HOOKERS ARE BETTER THAN ONE. At least that’s what Charlie Sheen says. Boom tish! With the beauty of hindsight, 80 minutes of Jake Friend was no match for Dean Young and Nathan Fien. They were too sharp and speedy and his defence got too soft. Sad but true. I wouldn’t say any of my boys had shockers. They just didn’t bring the spark: they were a six when – at times this year – they’ve been a nine. Two words: next year.

Oh, and maybe a few more words: STILL FEEL KINDA PISSY YOU DIDN’T COME TO THE ROOSTERS, WAYNE. HMPH.

Wanna know WHAT WE DID?

The UDL really brings out Yassy’s classy side.

Through a massive stroke of luck, we had tickets to the game, and the always fabulous Yasmin came with us, even though her two favourite players Moonie Vanoodie and Jarrod Yee-Hah weren’t playing. It probably helped that she has dirty crushes on Todd Carney and Ben Creagh, though. She sat between us, and even let me lay my head on her shoulder in despair in the second half. Usually she doesn’t much care for being touched, so thank you Yas!

After the game, while the Indian Roosters fan in front of us openly wept and was consoled by his girlfriend, we decided the best way to celebrate Kiki’s win, drown my sorrows and avoid train queues was to head to the Olympic Park pub and drink UDLs and dance to a covers band. Nothing cures sadness like dancing to Footloose and some comforting hugs from random Roosters fans and kindly Dragons while Kiki can-can dances around the pub. The general theme of the night from Drags fans was: BUT YOU GUYS DID SO WELL THIS YEAR! CONGRATULATIONS!

Kiki’s Grand Final headpiece (she made it herself!) both entertained and confused drunk people.

Next stop: The Beach Road Hotel for Kiki to gloat at Roosters fans. The only problem was that everyone there was so pissed they thought she was wearing Roosters colours.

And lastly: a drink and a pizza with our mate Shorto from the Jacksonville Axemen. Love you Shorto! Say hi to your dad for us!

I can’t express how much I adore every single Rooster for rebuilding us back into a team to be proud of this year. They finished second but it’s not enough of a reward for everything they did. All I can say is that seeing this broke my heart. It hurt even more than seeing Fitzy leave for the English Super League with a wooden spoon and a 16-point loss to the Cowboys, urgh.

And just as I was about to fume about Mark Gasnier sailing back in to get a Premiership ring, he stepped in to comfort Frank-Paul the Wrecking Ball:

Or the time I had to go out on the field at Leichhardt Oval after a NSW Cup game to interview the players. Instead of walking around to the big gate, I decided to just step over the little fence in front of the Grandstand …. and got stuck on it. Literally. Right leg on the field, left leg in the stands, and the crotch of my opaque tights snagged on a curl of wire on the top of the fence. Have you ever tried to unsnag the crotch of a pair of tights from a mini-hurricane fence in front of two NSW Cup teams, while holding a giant video camera bag in one hand and a tripod in the other? It was … elegant.

Apparently we have some kind of embarassing NSW cup reggies mojo going on at Leichhardt Oval in particular cause it keeps getting Kiki too. When the Tigers played Wests she tripped over her thong running to get an interview and fell face-first onto the concrete walkway in front of a terrified and aghast Robbie Farah.

When the Tigers played the Central Coast Centurions she found herself standing in line at the kiosk window waiting for a snack. All of a sudden she realised – and if you know Kiki you’ll know that this made her really, really happy – that there were cheesedogs on the menu.

If Tim Sheens is reading this it must be like looking in a mirror.

CHEESEDOGS!

She exclaimed with joy, just as the man at the front of the queue turned around to leave and came face to face with her.

You know that moment when a person turns around and you realise you recognise them, so say “Hi! [Insert name here]! It’s you!” Well, it was just like that.

Except that the man, friends, wasn’t a friend of ours. It was Tim Sheens. And, well, we’ve never met Tim Sheens. Also, Tim Sheens is generally known as either Tim Sheens, or ‘Sheensy’, no? And no, she didn’t say ‘SHEENSY’. Instead she literally yelled CHEESEDOGS in Tim Sheens’ face. He looked mortified. It was mortifying. And now, forevermore, we will call him Tim “Cheesedogs” Sheens.

… nyello, Cheesedogs speaking?
Pic. Getty Images

And now we have a new Special Moment to add to the Big Book of Errol Awkward: the time Sassy sms-ed Ryan Girdler. Remember Girds? The Penrith champion, ladies’ fave, former tv star and generally super-nice human being? the boys at Rugby League Player mag kindly let us do an interview with him for the next issue, knowing that we think he’s talented/lovely/interesting etc. We couldn’t get him on the phone to begin with, so I saved his number to try again.

Pic. Getty Images

That weekend, a good friend hit a bit of a rough spot: the kind that needs cocktails and hugs and other things of that nature. So I wrote a message that I’m 99% sure said:

“Hi babe, obviously I’m a bit out of the loop, but sending you all my love darlin xx s”

THEN I SENT IT TO RYAN GIRDLER. KILL ME NOW. At least I didn’t realise for like five days so I had five days of blissful ignorance. Why am I so embarassing?

Even Mitchell Pearce, the Patron Saint of Looking Awkward in Photos, doesn’t have any answers.
Pic. Getty Images

But anyway, let’s talk about footy and how it totally soothed the pain of being a really embarassing human.

My chookies were playing the bye this week (it was a close finish, but they kicked its ass) so I could watch the games without stressing and goddamn they were good. Not good if you are a fan of: ball control, defence, good refereeing, or the Sharks, but good for me.

Dragons vs Sharks, Sea Eagles vs Rabbitohs, Tigers vs Raiders: three of the most exciting games I’ve watched this year.

And apparently for the Tigers it was one of the best games to play all year, because Nips Farah got so excited he actually ran to the crowd for high-fives. NIPS TOUCHED PEOPLE! He never touches people! It’s proof that even after your team murders eight tries in eighty minutes, miracles can still happen at the Lilyfield Rectangle.

Special love from that game goes to Chris Heighington, for being a beast and playing like one; to Nips, for bein’ Nips; and to Jarrod Croker and Joel Thompson for representing for the baby Raiders.

Whee! I helped!

Pic. Getty Images

Footy also helped because, as always, awkward shit happened. Awkward and hilarious shit, mainly thanks to Jason ‘Flossy’ Nightingale. Not only did he get completely outraged after a Sharks player tackled him off the field and kneed him in the buttock, he then scored one of the top ten most hilarious tries in history. Trapped between two Sharks, he looked around shiftily, bit his lip, reached out his arm like he was trying to stealthily steal something from a museum, and gently puffed the ball onto the line. It was pure Flossy magic. We rewound it and rewatched it four times.

We are absolutely bloody exhausted right now. We spent the entire day at the Easter Show, most of that time was spent on the cattle lawn with NRL players and really cute kids. And wow, that lawn provided a powerful stench. It also provided Kiki with Embarassing Life Moment #567

Servo dude – “Busy day today?”

Kiki – “Yeh, I was working at the Easter Show. I had to go home and have a shower coz I smelt like poo.”

Servo dude – “…..”

Kiki – “I MEAN COW POO. NOT HUMAN POO. GOD.”

We’re also pretty proud, cause today is a big day bitches. Today is the WORLD PREMIERE OF ERROL TV. We have been talking about it for ages, creating videos just for Errol. But because we are us, it’s taken about 6 months to turn ideas into reality. But finally, we did it! Hoorah!

We are dedicated to our Errol readers. We will even spend a day in a tent that smells of shit. Behold, the debut of Errol Tv! Featuring us and our double chins, Kiki’s unbelievably bad hair, Rhys Wesser, Luke Priddis, Trent Waterhouse, Roosters cuddles and a Tiger who really really loves hot dogs. Please know that when Sassy says ‘fans’, she does it with irony. And please watch out for the ARL dude running a training drill while smashing an entire ear of corn on a stick. Legend.

* Mario telling us we were the best looking media there. Considering everyone else was a dude, this isn’t much of a compliment. BUT THANKS MUZ! We love ya.

* Sassy pretending to kick Andy from the NRL, only for him to literally flinch in fear. Awesome.

* We found ourselves needing a break from the poo smell. We soon discovered a place that served margaritas. Kiki asked “can we have one? is it 12pm yet?”. Sassy responded “11.40am, close enough. It’s tequila time.” Mmmm … frozen daytime alcohol.

* Kiki being so upset by Luke Priddis telling her she is too old for a Disney Princess showbag, she ended up buying a Tinkerbell stationery one instead.

She does love her new Tink pencil tin and matching Tink crayons (and created Sassy a truly spectacular artwork for her fridge) but deep down she really wanted a plastic tiara. DAMN YOU LUKE PRIDDIS.

And look how happy Sassy looks. Kiki missed out like WOAH.

* Luke Priddis redeeming himself by telling Kiki her Dragons necklace was ‘beautiful’ during their interview. Well spotted L.Pridd.

The graphic says it all. I have always asserted that I am not particularly competitive (an assertion that Sassy strenously disagrees with). But I can’t even deny it any more. Last round was an epic failure on every imaginable level and I am still pissed off. I REALLY HATE LOSING. Especially when it’s something that I am supposed to be somewhat of an ‘expert’ on. Stop giggling, I have expertise. Kind of.

Round 4 was an absolute write off for me. Just….bad. So SO bad. Let me walk you through my Round of Death, step by step.

DIASTER #1

The Dragons lose. Of course no footy fan likes it when their team loses, but I got totally spoilt last year when they won almost every game. I forgot what loss feels like. But the Dragons reminded me on Friday night. And HELLO I HATE IT. I wish I could say I was loyal and watched the whole game, but 10 minutes in I couldn’t stand the tension anymore, looked up the result, choked back tears, then demanded the TV be switched off. I won’t lie, when my boys lose I turn into a sooky little girl.

I totally stomped around the house and kicked my clean washing across the floor in rage. There is no one I hate losing to more than bloody Melbourne. I have so many issues with them, where to begin? First of all, it’s a team full of Dirty Queenslanders. No one likes Queenslanders, it’s just science. Second of all, if you’ve ever watched a Melbourne home game you will have had to suffer through the existence of possibly the most annoying/blood boiling/freaking irritating people of all time. COWBELL MAN. I’m not a proponent of the death penalty, but in this case, I would make an exception.

Finally, what the hell sort of retarded name is ‘The Storm’? Hmmmm? You cannot BE a storm. It’s impossible and it angers me beyond belief. You can’t just pick something out of nature and name a team after it. The Central Coast Low Tides? The Central Queensland Hailstones? The Adelaide Low Pressure Systems? IT’S RIDICULOUS PEOPLE. Melbourne Storm, I shake my fist at you.

Note – I have misplaced my beloved Dragons nameplate necklace, hopefully somewhere in my house. This distresses me a lot, but what occured the other night has distressed me further. Kids, I shit you not, Uncle Wayne came to me in a dream. It was clear as day. He appeared through some mist, grabbed me and said ‘Kiki! Where is your Dragons necklace?’. I replied I didn’t know, but I was looking for it. He said ‘Kiki, you weren’t wearing it on Friday night. Do you think that’s why the boys lost?’, shook his head judgmentally and then disappeared back into the mist. Now I am completely freaked out. IF THE DRAGONS LOSE THIS WEEK IT WILL BE MY FAULT. DREAM UNCLE WAYNE WOULDN’T LIE.

DIASTER #2

Let’s talk fantasy league. (and yes every time I post about fantasy league I google ‘fantasy’ and post what comes up, what of it?) Now you’re probably losing sleep wondering how the epic battle between our fantasy teams is going. Well now you can sleep soundly my loves, because here are the results.

So far, I am pleased to report, my Lil Angels have been victorious over Sassy’s 3 weeks in a row. And that has made super happypants. But of course, because this was the Round of Death, my Angels finally succumbed to the Second Chances. GODAMNIT. As if this wasn’t annoying enough, everyone told me that Corey Norman is like the best fantasy buy of all time, so I bought him and what did he give me? FOUR POINTS. FOUR FUCKING POINTS.

I don’t even know what to change this week. Help?

DIASTER #3

Now onto my greatest shame. My woeful, pathetic, embarassing, bloody mortifying tipping effort. I got…wait for it…2 from 8. I have no words. Out of all my years of being an obsessive footy nerd, I have never ever done this badly. I would go through and list all the teams I blame this embarassment on, but that would take me too long. Mainly, I blame Parramatta. Seriously, you lost to THE SHARKS? Bitches, that Hayne Train has been derailed like woaaah. That shit is like firey wreck on the side of a mountain.

The worst thing about this tipping diaster is the fact my mates have been ribbing me about it ever since. Mostly Reidy, of Bondi Rescue fame, godamnit that bastard won’t let it go. If I was a bigger person I wouldn’t let it get to me, but I am petty and annoyed easily I would like to say this publicly: PISS OFF REIDY. Also, if I was more mature I would let him revel in the fact he beat me in one measly round, but I feel the need to point out that overall I am now coming 29th (I was 13th until Round of Death) and he is still languishing somewhere on the second page. So….suck it lifeguard!

Oh and as for things that aren’t about me, Lozzy is number two in the Errol tipping comp, and inexplicably, Sassy is still leading the pack. None of us can quite figure out how, or why. It’s some X-Files shit, I tell ya what.

At Errol HQ, we never like to do things straight away if we can let Future Us look after it instead. So how about a really late recap of the Dragons vs Bulldogs from the weekend? Awesome.

I’m watching this game form the couch. Sure I’d rather be hanging in the gong at WIN Stadium looking at the water views (they really are lovely) and basking in the kind of satisfaction that only comes from being within stalking distance of both Hot Bitch Cooper AND Wendell Sailor, but a girls gotta take what she can get. And what I got … is lazy.

The Bulldogs fans have a sign that says ‘STAGGERING’. Really, guys? Of all the options, you went with a tribute to David Stagg? No offence to Dave, but he’s not really a marquee player, is he? For the mums and gays reading, if you cast him in Beaches, he’d be Barbara Hershey, not Bette Midler, right?

The Dragons play a great first set with a brilliant kick from Tiny Dancer but I’m too busy being shocked that Hornbag has new spanx on. Thery’re all … white! And shiny! I thought Hornbag was gonna hold onto those old manky faded blue-grey spanx until the end of eternity. I always figured when nuclear armageddon came, all that would survive would be cockroaches, and Hornbag’s blue bike pants. Pretty sure Hornbag would love me comparing his crotchal region to insects, just quietly.

Pic. Getty Images

After about ten seconds Darius Boyd throws a great pass right to B.Moz to dive in like superman for a try. Kiki sends me text messages that just say ‘B.MOZZZZZz‘ and ‘FANTASY LEAGUE SUCK IT‘.

I send one back that says ‘F*CK ME THAT’S THE FIRST TIME I’VE EVER SEEN BALL-HOG PASS A FOOTY.’ Dah-rius, honey, if you can pass like that, how come you’ve never done it before, hmmmm?

Brad Fittler gives me updates from the sidelines and I feel like- much as I love Freddy – of all the post-footy jobs you could possibly give him, why would you pick one where you can only hear his voice?

He has a lovable face, relevant things to say, footy cred like woah, and … a voice like a punch-drunk boxer. It’s like listening to Milo Kerrigan tell me about the Dragons.

I swear to god he actually says “I can pretty much guarantee that they’ll end up the other end the bulldogs in not too long time”. I think he’s nervous. DON’T BE NERVOUS FREDDY DARLIN.

There’s some crazy sea mist action on the field and newly-recognised hot bitch Jeremy Smith’s new curly hair is all windswept and drenched, swoon. It makes me sad that he hid his hot under a Storm jersey for so long.

Weyman goes in for a tackle and Rabs cackles “talk about some prime beef coming together there! Hickey into Michael Weyman!” I know when I think of Jarrad Hickey the first thing I think of is beef. Mmmm wagyu.

Dean Young scores, but Sowie can’t convert. I think he got the prance wrong and it put him off.

They have to send in an interchange player for Jarrad Hickey cause Wagyu Jarrad is deadset EXHAUSTED. He’s the dampest, sweatiest man I’ve ever seen and I’m scared he might have a stroke.

Brad ‘Milo Kerrigan’ Fittler gives us a weather report: “there’s a bit of breeze, it’s not too hot. You just get a bit of a lather up.”

Sassy can’t wait till Freddy’s known as the Most Trusted Name in Weather.Is the weather getting messy? Aaa-aaaaaask Freddy!

Benny Creagh puts a hit on David Stagg that is completely massive and Dave takes a quick ride on the Teacups that makes the ‘STAGGERING’ sign in the crowd seem really cruel and ironic.

At this point I really need to pee but apparently I would rather risk internal complications and hold it in than stop watching the footy. Also, is it just me or is Luke Priddis kind of a bizarro Trent Barrett?

The doggies have a chance at a try on the left hand side, but Dah-rius takes Bryson Goodwin over the sideline to stop it, then patronisingly pats him on the head. And when Bryson gets his bitch on and wants to start a fight, Dah-rius runs away. He fights like me!

Beau Scott takes his place, because dammit if Beau isn’t the angriest bitch ever as soon as he steps onto a football field. All of a sudden Hornbag, Ben Hannant, and Flossy nightingale are in the middle of an actual fight and I feel like there is no one in the world less suited to be involved in punchy punchy times. If the camera could show what was actually happening in there Ben Hannant and Flossy would just be nuzzling each other’s necks like giant puppies. J.Moz and B.Moz run away to fake fight each other on the other side of the field, also known as “entertaining the crowd with a show of brotherly love” according to Rabs.

… hasn’t he seen Philadelphia?Pic. capped by Cronkstaaaah

Rabs, this prase “brotherly love”, it means something that you don’t think it means. Trust me.

Other things Rabs has told us tonight include that Jamal Idris used to do Discus, and that Sterlo is a “whippersnapper”. These things may or may not be true.

At half time Kiki rings me to discuss the fight and to tell me she has run out of clean undies and is freeballing. We are officially way too close.

The boys finish their oranges and the second half starts. This is also known as ‘Rabs being even more fucking hilarious/senile than usual”.

The game loses momentum, until Beau Scott brings down a bulldog and Rabs calls him “a bounty hunter! They don’t get away from him!”

I hear his new movie is really shit, though.

The doggies finally get a try in; Gary Warburton is penalised for a high tackle because I think we all know that good things don’t happen to men called Gary Warburton.

No, Gary, NO!

The dragons charge into Green and Hickey in defence. I’m impressed. I’d be too scared they’d eat me. Emmett scores, Kimmorley is enraged, and I am completely confused by whatever is going on with the reffing. For the record, I’m not even drunk.

Also, yes that was very good Nick Emmett but please don’t wink at me through the tv again. It’s unnerving. We hardly know each other.

Meanwhile Kimmorley is still angry and frantically miming obstruction at the ref like a netball umpire in slo-mo.

Kiki phones me again and we declare Hornbag as the Errol man of the match.

Ben Creagh slams Kimmorley and mini-Hoppo takes a looong ride on Space Mountain. I yell out “thanks for comin’ Kimmorley!” like a dirty bogan.

B. Moz runs in for his third try of the noght and I seriously cannot even process how unfair this is. Remember our fantasy experiment? I really REALLY need this kind of talent in my team, but B.Moz refuses to give in and just steal a car or something. He’s so fucking selfish. My fantasy team is so gonna lose this week.

With that the ref blows the whistle, 26-6. I cry a little for my poor unfortunate fantasy team … and did I mention I need to pee again?

Hello Errol friends. I would like to introduce you to Yasmin. She enjoys dark beer (see above), is my roomie, and most importantly…is footy’s newest fan.

One of my hobbies is pressuring/harassing/manipulating people into liking things I’m into. It just makes life easier for me, you know? Sassy and I did this to Lozzy in 2008, and this time around it was Yasmin’s turn. When we moved in together 6 months ago I informed her she was lucky it was the off season, so she didn’t have to sit through endless hours of footy on the TV. She was glad.

Flash forward to current day and I have on my hands an obsessed little Bunnies fan who is a ferocious and committed competitor in both footy tipping AND fantasy league competitions. I happily take most of the credit for this amazing turnaround, but I have to give props to footy for being so innately awesome and hilarious. Really all I was doing for Yasmin was pointing out the spectacularly amusing points and letting it go from there. Let’s hear from Yassy herself, shall we?

I’ve never been a big Footy fan, I mean sure, of course I celebrated the Knights Grand Final wins in 97 & 2001 but I really had no choice, I didn’t want to be cut. Have you ever been to Newie? It’s like Beyond Thunderdome there.

So after moving in with Kiki in Maroubra last year, I decided it was time to take the plunge & pick a team, after all I think that was part of the problem, I mean the Knights really aren’t all that lovable.

Once I got to Maroubra I had an epiphany & settled on the Bunnies, after all I was now living in major Bunnies territory, I once had a pet bunny (Kurt Cobain RIP). I’m a winter so I look good in red & green, then of course there was the Rusty factor. It was fate, even as I complained last year there weren’t enough attractive players in the team, Rusty got Sam Burgess all the way from England just for me.

I never do anything by halves, can tend to focus on something/someone until it becomes an obsession & being a footy fan has proved to be no exception. I will even admit to looking at the Rabbitohs website daily & watching Rusty’s Christmas message whenever I feel sad (do yourself a favour and go watch it, you won’t regret it and will find yourself quoting it).

So now I am now fully addicted to Fantasy League & am a tough supercoach. My need to win outweighs my loyalty (my future husband included, shhh don’t tell him) & if they don’t perform to Coach Yasbean’s expectations, then off with their heads.

Don’t mess with the supercoaches.

But hold on a minute, I am also a multi-tasker. Not only am I a Supercoach, I also like to coach the Bunnies in real life. So next week when the Bunnies finally win, you can thank me & the ‘Ball Control, Bunnies!’ sign I erected on our front lawn that the team had to pass on the way to recovery after the game against the Titans.

As she says, she really doesn’t do anything by halves. I woke up on a Sunday a few weeks ago to be accosted in our living room with her yelling “KIKI. THANK GOD YOU’RE AWAKE. I’VE MADE A FANTASY TEAM AND U NEED TO TELL ME HOW GOOD IT IS.”

She later admitted that not only did she make a fantasy team, but after she had used up all the players she knew previously (the big names) she then visited every team’s website to find the best looking player that cost the least on the salary cap. That is dedication people.

By far the best thing about introducing someone to footy, is seeing the game through new eyes. Yasmin has provided me with some epic lolz so far. I would like to share these quotes with you.

“Oooh! This is so fun! Everyone at the footy is so FRIENDLY!” – at the Charity Shield after a man asked me to hold his hot dog while he bought a beer
“Who is the guy in the….the…the head hat?” – asked while pointing at Preston Campbell at the All Stars game
“Oooh! I want that black guy in my fantasy team!” – excitedly yelled while watching Rhys Wesser return the ball

“Is it wrong that I find Robbie Farah attractive?” – while watching a Tigers game

“I have Jarrod Yeeha in my fantasy team.” – Yasmin on Jharal Yow-Yeh

“FUCKING BUNNIES. Less tweeting about banana bread, more training Burgess!” – after suffering her first loss as a Rabbitohs fan

“Omigod. The Mozzies were on the footy show and B.Moz was wearing a BACKPACK and he looks like a giant 5 year old. I taped it for you. If you get in the shower and get ready on time, I’ll let you watch it.” – her greeting as soon as I woke up yesterday

“They were warming up in front of me and I was looking at their leg muscles and I thought…THIS IS A GREAT GAME THIS IS” – at Leichardt Oval, after watching the Balmain Tigers warm up

” How does Dave Taylor manage to play this game? There are so many bloody rules!” – after me attempting to explain how the in goal/restart rules work

To say I am proud of how she’s embraced footy fandom is an understatement. Not only has she enthusiastically embraced everything NRL, but she is also loving the joy that is the NSW Cup. The fact she finds Tigers captain Lee Bennett super spunky may have something to do with it. I think the 4 dollar beers help too. She is also planning a range of footy coloured girls pyjamas (she’s a talented designer, for reals) for us to sell on Errol. AND she even made me awesome Dragons themed nail art.

Keep an eye out for Yasmin’s weekly appearance in Fantasy League Fridays. I can safely say she is extremely committed to being a fantasy coach, as she talks about it at home at least 3.5 times a day.

One last thing. The NRL are constantly trying to improve the game for women, and now they have a spiffy little survey for us to fill out to help them achieve their goals. We have all filled it out, so you should too. You can find it here. Go now, it finishes on March 30th. THANKS GUYZ LOVE YA.

It’s no secret that Errol is a gay-friendly zone. If there were a blog-equivalent of PFLAG, then we’d be in it. If we weren’t technologically retarded we would put a happy little rainbow flag on the site to show you.

So keep your Mardi-hate away from the comments section, please. It’s one night! If you care not for parades and rainbows and glitter and topless ladies on bikes, you can stay home and work on your cross-stitch. If you need a break, maybe google all the great things the gays have given you, like Elton John songs, Olympic gold medals, and the Pauline Hanson Mardi Gras float where her huge creepy head was chasnig ‘ethnic’ fish n chips down Oxford St. Remember that? Shit was incredible. Incredible, and eerily lifelike.

Sadly this year – because we’re heading to Homebush for the Charity Shield Bunnies vs Dragons game tomorrow – we can’t watch the parade or put on fake eyelashes and join in the insanity afterwards. Tragedy. Now we’ll never find out what ridiculous shenanigans we would’ve pulled off during the course of the night. Would Kiki have ended up with a torn tulle fairy skirt and chewing gum in her hair again? Would I wear something ridiculously inappropriate again like a skintight leather skirt and be unable to sit or stand without a burly gay lifting me? Would we meet a Karl Lagerfeld drag king again and start a fight by pulling his ponytail? (Sorry about that, btw). WOULD ANYONE PASH A GAY MAN? So many unanswered questions.

We probably would’ve headed for Charlotte Dawson’s Arena party, so maybe she can fill us in later. Get onto it pls Daws.

So instead, we have to celebrate Mardi Gras Eve. I plan to spend it at home doing what everyone should be doing pre-Mardi Gras: fake tanning. You know it’s true.

That way I’ll also look golden brown when I try and defuse fights between Dragons fan Kiki and our friend Yassy (new and devoted Bunnies fan).

What I like to think Wendell will be wearing on the night.

Personally, I’m kind of undecided. On one hand, I have a weird love for St George. Partly, that’s because I find their halves combination of Tiny Dancer and Hornbag completely adorable, and would kinda love to ask them over for afternoon tea to explain in depth that I totally believe in their skills even though they occasionally have flat games where they seem to shut down run out of attacking options.

Also partly because I think Uncle Wayne might be some kind of superhuman. He is the only person so far in my life to render me speechless. Even after two champagnes I couldn’t talk to him. I was muted by Benny. And I am never mute. I’m also overly invested in Jason ‘Flossy’ Nightingale and his success: a) because he looks like a labrador when he plays, and b) because following in Wendell Sailor’s footsteps is tough.

On the other hand, I have a massive platonic crush on Peter Holmes a Court. He’s seriously up there with Lee Furlong now on my list of non-sexual crushes. He’s just so clever! And so nice! And so pretty! On the Goldy – because I am a tool who does embarassing things – I announced to a group of rugby league bigwigs that “Peter Holmes a Court is a DREAMBOAT”. God I’m a winner. Which of course means if I cheer against the Bunnies it will have to be in secret in case the Dreamboat finds out.

And as a warm up to footy tipping for this year (have you joined our comp yet? GO DO IT NOW) I’ll even tip the game for ya – Dragons will win it but not by much. Matt Cooper will remain ridiculously hot, Beau Champion will play almost as well as he did at All-Stars, and Tiny Dancer will dance again (hopefully in a Mardi Gras-themed headgear).

How can we put into words just how freaking insanely AWESOME this game was? Admittedly, when it comes to footy, it doesn’t take us much to get excited. It doesn’t even have to be an actual game. We get footy thrills from just watching training, reading lolz articles, seeing photos of players we like in the paper (OMG GUYS PRESTON IS ON THE FRONT PAGE!!!), discussing fantasty football at length during plane rides, listening to Wes Carr’s ‘Woah’ on iTunes…..you get the idea.

As the above photo accurately portrays, when it comes to footy we are pretty much cats with a ball of yarn. EXCITING! FASCINATING! OCCUPIED FOR HOURS! But even our tragic league brains can recognise when something is universally amazing. And the All Stars game was. When non-footy people make a point of saying to us ‘wasn’t that game brilliant?’ you know it’s hit a nerve.

Shout out to our gorgeous friend Eddie, who is a recent footy convert….she watched it alone at home back in Sydney and sent us endless text messages like “Ummmm I keep tearing up. What is wrong with me??” and “Ooooh SamBurgess is hot!“. Considering she doesn’t even like guys, that’s a pretty big compliment for Sam.

All this excitement, AND we got to hang out at the NRL’s One Community stand before the game and people…WE MET HEALTHY HAROLD. Yes, the giraffe that came to our primary schools and taught us about healfy fings. In a caravan. Everyone knows any message spread inside a caravan is one worth spreading. Together with Harold and Mario Fenech we challenged kids to making funny faces with fruit, vegies and wholegrain tortillas. Yes, you read that right.

After spending the week in the Goldy and meeting so many Indigenous people involved in the game, players, management and fans, watching the game took on a whole new significance for us. Not to get all political or anything, but when the amazing dancers were performing, we marvelled at the fact Indigenous culture is still so strong and so proud, after White Australia has had more than a few cracks at destroying it.

The feeling in the stadium was something we’ve never experienced before. It made Origin look understated and passionless. We will straight up admit : shit got emotional. There was definitely goosebumps and we had to literally choke back tears a few times during the night. Please don’t point out that we are weird or creepily and suddenly attached to a people and culture that are not our own, WE KNOW, WE KNOW. You just can’t help how ya feel, okay?

We won’t go through the game play by play, because we know you all watched it for yourselves, but our highlights include – Wendell’s beautiful try and his hysterical didgeredoo routine afterwards, youngin Blake Ferguson chasing down Izzy Folau to save a try, Corey Patterson’s MASSIVE hit on Kurt Gidley (we swear you could hear that oooooof noise up the other end of the field) and best of all, Errol fave Tiny Dancer Soward scoring that absolute ripper of a try to win the game. SO.FREAKING.GOOD.

– the fact that we were so proud that we were in the same room Wayne Bennett for hours without accosting him … until Kiki’s liquid courage kicked in and she trotted over to introduce herself. The result? UNCLE WAYNE SMILED. For realz. She also showed him her beloved Dragons necklace (that she never takes off) and he said it was … wait for it … “adorable”. Yes people, Uncle Wayne used the word adorable. We are still speechless.

(She also may or may not have put her back out while performing her OMGZ I JUST MET GOD dance for a group of people. It’s still sore.)

– Sassy finding herself in a Serious Discussion about what would be the best approach to coaching a forward like Sam Burgess with Brad Fittler and Telegraph journo Andrew Webster. All she could offer was ‘ummmmmm … did you know I once coached a fantasy team?’

– a rugby league legend helpfully telling us if we wanna be on TV, we have to ‘tone the hair down … you have TOO MUCH HAIR’. Also ‘you have beautiful faces! The hair is a distraction!’. Easily the weirdest and loliest moment of our week, possibly our lives. Kiki had to talk down Sassy from marching over and telling him it’s Queensland, mate! You try keeping your curls under control in this kind of humidity. GOD.

(He had clearly been to one of those management courses where they teach you how to give advice without offending people by MAKING SURE YOU THROW IN A COMPLIMENT. “Girls! You have too much hair … um, but you’re beautiful too. Please don’t hit me” – Sass)

– Kiki finally fulfilling her aim of the week, and getting her hug from Jamal Idris. And by ‘getting’, we mean she stormed up to him purposefully, yelled JAMAL I AM YOUR BIGGEST FAN I HAVE TO HUG YOU and launched herself at him. Thankfully he didn’t seem to be too bothered by her creepiness.

– Kiki then asking Jamal if his acting ambitions are for real, or were they a media beat up. His answer? He really, truly wants to be an actor. We could not love him more.

And with that, the best week ever was over and we were relegated to being sad pandas. The countdown to All Stars II has begun. Bring it on!

We want to say big BIG thankyous to the NRL, especially Trish, Janelle, Jodie and Nish. And much love to DG, DT and John B, thanks for for the encouragement and support boys! Also thanks to Jason from the Titans, Phil, Chris and the boys from the NSW U16’s Indigenous team. And of course to all the players who were very generous and gracious all week.

Life as a blogger can be tough, even at Christmas. Sure there are pluses – like the comfort of working in your pyjamas and the joy of photoshopping hats onto Serious Naked Photos, but then there’s also the having to live off beans from a can, the potential for carpul tunnel syndrome, the anonymous boys online who call you footy sluts … wait, actually that last one is actually just funny. But still, shit can get brutal yo*.

* in no way do I actually think this is brutal, compared to, say, people who live through war or have health problems which mean they’re not allowed to drink, or haven’t ever heard of the Backstreet Boys. Now THAT’S tough.

What was my point? Oh yeah, being a footy fan can be a complete bitch sometimes, too. And by ‘sometimes’ I pretty much mean ‘when you go for the Roosters or the Sharks’.

And most importantly, life can be toughest of all when a great human like Wendell Sailor announces his retirement. Today is officially one month since we all got the sniffles saying goodbye to Dell. It’s a Delliversary!

So we decided to try and find a little footy sunshine to brighten up everyone’s weekend. Luckily, the Dragons have some of the greatest corporate partners ever, and have this totally brilliant Reebok ad up on their website starring Big Dell himself.

Yes, maybe I did make a mini-collage of screencaps of Dell dancing. What of it?

Now that is some brilliant advertising right there. If you can watch that without wanting to buy I-DON’T-EVEN-CARE-WHATEVER-DELL-IS-SELLING then you’re a stronger person than I am. Honestly, this is the kinda shit they should be talking about on the Gruen Transfer. It’s fantastic.

Even better? Dragons besties and Errol faves Wendell and Jamie ‘Tiny Dancer’ Soward also pop up to wish you a merry Christmas on the Dragons homepage …. in Santa hats. And Dell telling us all to become Red V members. Not gonna lie …. I may have joined up. Even though I’m not a Dragons fan. That’s the power of the Dell. Whoever is looking after the Dragons website, we salute you. WE. SALUTE.YOU.

And if Wendell being hilarious isn’t your style (which …. seriously? It’s not your style? You absolute freak. Do you also eat babies and put your toilet paper on the roll underhand?) we found you some adorableness from across the Tasman and north of the Tweed.

Pic. Getty Images

Yup, that right there is Errol Cutest Rooke of the Year from 2008, Kevin Locke, bringing the cute with his Maori greetings all over the island of Shebangabang (occasionally known as New Zealand). He is hands-down Shebangabang’s cutest footy player, am I right? I’m so right.

Meanwhile Scotty Prince and the Titans boys have been busy …. playing bowls.

That’s right, playing bowls. And for some reason, footy players playing bowls = comedy gold. All those giant arms, no need for strength! It may also be because, in Kevin Gordon’s case, they love an Akubra. Oh, K.Flash. Could this be the first time I’ve ever swooned at a man in an Akubra? My guess is yes.

And if that doesn’t cheer you up, maybe you should give up on life. Just sayin.